Life of Py-ro
by JDeecats
Summary: The pyro is a lady, but due to the strict "male only" rule, she's forced to keep it a secret. How long will that last? (hint: not very) And could there be romance in store? Who knows! (I'm writing this as I go along, suggestions are welcome.)
1. Chapter 1

**_AN: Alright, here goes, my first fanfiction. I hope everyone who reads it likes it, and I'm sorry for any typos I might have missed. I'm writing this casually, so I'm open to suggestions if anybody wants to share. I appreciate all comments except, of course, the rude ones. This story is just for fun. I'm sorry the first chapter is boring and short, but I promise the next ones will be better. Please tell me what you think!_**

_No way, is it actually…?_ I use my shaking hand to grasp the dusty wind wrinkled paper before it could blow away again. _An opening?_ I suck in a breath to help water down my stirring excitement that already began to fill my stomach and limbs. _Calm down_, I tell myself, it might not even be for-

**WANTED: PYRO**

_It is! Still, maybe I'm not old enough, maybe it's like renting a car. I never checked for an age requirement, I'm only twenty four._

**MUST BE: **

**At least 18 years of age**

**Able and willing to demonstrate skills with a flamethrower**

**Able and willing to fight under war-like situations effectively**

**Male**

_There's the kicker._ I already knew that one, though. That's why if I want any chance of doing this thing, pyro is my only hope. It will be easy enough to hide my curves in that fire resistant suite. The amount of people skilled in using a flamethrower in combat is limited, making my top notch skills high on the wanted list. Yes, pyro is the perfect class for me.

The "war-like situation" kind of nags at me, though. Not surprisingly, I've never had the chance to practice my skills outside of my little training area behind my house. I guess I'll see if I'm up to the task when I "willingly demonstrate my skills with a flamethrower".

Now, reader, I'm sure you have some questions. First one being, of course, "What?"

I'll keep it simple for you, Team Fortress Industries is a corporation created by a very old and very rich man. I'm talking, rolling-in-it, mansion of gold, filthy stinking, high ballin', swan-diving-into-a-pool-filled-with-gold-coins-Scrooge-Mcduck-style rich. The geezer, Mann something, has been dead for quite awhile now; god rest his soul. Before he died, his twin sons talked him into buying a ridiculous amount of useless desert in New Mexico. I'm not sure what happened to his money or his company, but I do know that his sons didn't get it; all they got was the land they convinced him to buy. The problem only being that the land was given to them to _share._ It's kind of a revenge beyond the grave deal because their father died pissed off about all the money he wasted on New Mexican land, so by making the twins share he knew that they'd fight over it until they themselves died.

As expected, the twins battled, even going the extra mile and hiring their own set of mercenaries to fight for them. That's where I come in._ That's terrible!_ you must be thinking, _Why would anyone want to fight for and kill for a couple of bratty twins?_ Before I answer that, let me explain the basics.

There are nine classes: Scout, Soldier, Demoman, Engineer, Heavy, Medic, Sniper, Spy, and of course, Pyro. The Scout is the fastest on his feet and best for getting a job done quick. His style is hit and run before anyone notices him use his scattergun, pistol, or bat. He is best for offensive attack. That's his job, but I don't know anything personality wise. Next is the Soldier. The class is very versatile, capable of both offence and defense. Weapons include rocket launcher, shotgun, and a shovel. Again, not much to say about the person, just the job.

The Demoman is also quite versatile and a master of explosives. There's not much more to say except his melee's pretty good, too. He uses grenade launcher and stickybomb launcher. I heard, though I myself believe it's a bit far fetched, that he is known for smashing empty bottles of scrumpy on enemies in close combat. It's probably not true, I mean, that's a bit much. Next, is the Engineer, who is in charge of building sentries, teleporters, and dispensers. Pretty high-tech stuff, if you ask me. He has to be some sort of genius for the job. Other than his machines, he carries a shotgun and pistol.

The Heavy's job is already in his title. He does heavy weapons like his minigun, shotgun, or just his fists. I imagine he must be a hefty built man to carry out his duties. The Medic is, again in his name, medical aid. I'm not entirely sure about how it works, but he can heal injured mercenary team mates. I know he has his medigun, syringe gun, and the simple bone saw. All those weapons sound odd, I know; I'm don't even know how they all work. There's not much I know about the Medic. The Sniper snipes with, surprise, a sniper rifle. Secondary defense provided by his submachine gun and kukri. I also heard he throws jars of piss on people, but that sounds a insane. And disgusting.

Number eight is the Spy, another class shrouded in mystery. I know he has the ability to sabotage and destroy the opposing teams sentries and such with a sapper. I'm not sure how it works, and I'm not super concerned about it either. His classic move is stabbing someone in the back with a knife; he seems the type you'd need to be careful around. He has a revolver and invis watch that is supposed to turn him invisible for a little while. Another bit of information I'm not completely certain on. Not to say I don't have a reliable sources, but some of this stuff sounds impossible. Speaking of impossible, I am told that the job is risk free, despite the "war-like situation". I was not able to attain information much on that subject. Something unbelievably technologically advanced, probably.

Finally, before I forget, is the Pyro. Provided with flamethrower, shotgun, and fire axe. My job, if I get it, will be pretty simple: light people on fire. Lucky for me, it seems I was made for this job. I adore fire. The beautiful hues of red and orange with yellow sparks dancing around the soft flame. It's absolutely lovely, especially when it gets hot enough for blue flames; it's just dazzlingly hypnotizing. My favorite thing is the sheer power behind its allure. Simply touching it is enough. Yes, I think Pyro would suite me very well.

Not to mention how perfect the circumstances are. I just happen to stumble upon a stray paper that I almost didn't pick up, it's like it's my destiny. There's an opening not only for my dream job, but working for Team Fortress Industries. Now, we can get to what is most likely your second question: "Why?"

For money, baby! Remember that old fart I mentioned? His money is what pays us. From what I've heard, it's quite a load. We're talking 1.5 million within the year. That alone makes this job my kind of job.

Now that you've caught up, I can address the paper in my hand. I won't bore you with the other details. I need to get to a phone to call in my application, I hope I'm not too late, who knows how long this paper's been circulating.

_**And there you have it. Again, I promise future chapters will be better. **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**AN: Sorry again for any typos, again. Thank you so much for the reviews and follows JennyReckless, Cybernetic Author until 5, AnnieGirl97, and I'm Judging You! It means so much to me and I really appreciate the support. Also, I'm thinking these chapters are going to be pretty short most of the time, but we'll see. Everyone enjoy and tell me what you think!**_

I'm doused with a sudden bout of nerves when the ring drills for the third time. _What if I can't disguise my voice well enough? _I panic inwardly. _Shut up and focus!_ I tell myself rudely just as a voice answers the phone. "Hello?" A female voice demands instantly. Startled I hesitate with my mouth open. "Are you calling for the Pyro job?" I nod, but then realize whoever she is can't see me.

"Yes." I whisper hoarsely, hoping that is enough.

"Excellent! You're the only one to call since the job became open weeks ago." I'm surprised. I know it's not very popular a position, but not one call? Whatever, I just need to be grateful I'm getting this opportunity. I wonder where TFI would post job openings, anyway. Its all very secret so I assume they don't just pin it to a stop sign and hope for the best. I'm suddenly aware of the silence on the other end of the line.

"Excuse me?" I ask in the same hushed and guttural voice, sure that I missed something.

"I said the job's yours." I'm stunned. That was easy… "As long as you are what's required, of course." She takes my silence as confirmation. "Everything will be explained when you get down here. Can you meet a ride by nine o'clock tonight?" I gasp a little and glance at the clock. It reads 2:13 pm. I send a thankful prayer to god that I chose to live in New Mexico since I first heard of TF2. And another one when the meetup place was only twenty minutes away. I say a verbal thank you before hanging up the phone. I need to get there early and change. If I show up in my own fire suit, I think I'll be okay.

xxx

The sun is beginning to set. I watch the sky turn redish from hood of my car. I would be in the car if the AC was any good. I'm already in my suit, sweating like a pig in the fire of the setting sun. It is beautiful, and the heat could be worse. I keep my mask on, they should be here any minute, whoever _they _are. I reach a naked hand under the straps of my mask to itch my prickling scalp. My hair is almost four inches, now. I meant to have it cut before all of this. The damp locks that cling to my skull at the top of my neck are visible and I hope the cut doesn't look too feminine.

The eye holes of the mask have clear, triangle lenses, but you can't tell someone's gender from their eyes, right? I shake my head to cast away the thought, causing the corrugated tube attached to the valve of the mask to pull at the metal canister. It's not the most high end mask, but it isn't _that_ bad. I mean, It helps me breath and- who am I kidding? The thing looks like it's from WW1 and I probably have lung cancer.

I consider pulling it from my face for a minute or two, when I finally hear the distant roar of a motor. _Finally_, I think at 9:07 pm, though I've been here since 8:45. The motor belongs to a very dusty gray van decorated with little chinks from pebbles scattered across the metal. I slide off the hood of my car to greet the driver.

A small brunette woman steps out confidently to shake my hand. I'm only about half an inch taller than her. "I'm Miss Pauling, we spoke on the phone?" She greets, holding out a hand for me to shake. Once I do she continues. "I don't need your name, so don't worry about it." I nod, glad to not have to speak. "You won't need that," She says once I begin to pull my flamethrower from the trunk of my vehicle, "And give me your keys, I'll have someone take care of your car." I think about hesitating, but decide it doesn't matter because pretty soon I'll be able to get a much better car. "Get in." She motions to the back before climbing into the front. Once the doors shut, the motor vibrates the car and we rumble into seemingly empty desert. After a moment of dark silence, Miss Pauling speaks while glancing at me in the rear-view mirror. "You know, you didn't have to dressed in uniform." She smirks at my silliness and I blush under my mask. I didn't think how stupid I'd look wearing it all the time.

"You didn't even have to bring it, actually. It's provided, like your other weapons." I nod understanding and shrug my shoulders, hoping she wasn't expecting me to speak. "You have quite the cold from the sounds of it on the phone." She comments mostly to herself. I cough a little to reinforce the statement. "Your first mission will begin tomorrow morning. Since I drove all the way down here, you better be up for it." she says suspiciously before allowing her voice to switch to relief. "Honestly I'm just glad you called, RED team is in desperate need of a Pyro. Also, I get the heat, no pun intended, if you're no good so don't embarrass me." She pauses through another span of silence. "You're quiet," She observes, "That works fine because I have several things to explain to you before we arrive." I nod, assuming she was looking. I would tell you everything she told me, but I honestly can't remember most of it. She talked fast and used quite a few words I'd never heard before, especially when getting into the science of it.

The general gist is that Team Fortress Industries has a whole system setup for the _very_ likely event of your death. It was originally set up for the twins to outlast one another. Something called "respawn". Basically, if you die, which you definitely will, your body will reappear in your team's base about ten-twenty seconds later. From there you charge right back out onto the field to complete the mission, probably dying several more times before you win or lose. That doesn't sound too bad, I think.

She goes a little more in depth of what exactly my job will be. Turns out, it's a little more complicated then burn people, unfortunately. An important duty of the team's Pyro is to "spy check" by igniting the area around teammates and especially sentries to to find any cloaked spies. I want to ask her how many of the stories I've heard are true, but I don't dare risk it. This woman is very technical, telling me exactly what I need to know, no more, no less.

"They're all probably drinking or playing poker inside, but they know you're supposed to be here tonight. Everything you need will be in your room, uniform and other clothes. It's upstairs, the empty one." I nod thank you and wave when she leave. I smile, but she can't see it.

Again, I'm wracked with nerves. I stand a moment in the silent twilight, alone except for the sand that dances in the light breeze. I hold my head high as I walk into the room in my stupid, low class suite and mask. It's like that feeling you got in elementary school when walking into a classroom that isn't yours. All the eyes focus on you wondering why the hell you're there. I shake the feeling. I'll just find my room and slip into routine tomorrow, no one will have to acknowledge me, or accidentally learn my secret.

**_Alrighty there you have it, chapter two! I hope everyone likes. Feel free to tell me how you want or think the story should go, I could use some ideas. I hope everyone sticks around for the next update._**


	3. Chapter 3

**_AN: I'm just going to apologize in advance for the upcoming accents I decided to type in. They're hugely exaggerated, but I feel like it works. If anyone hates it and think I should stop, or if you like it, let me know. Thank you Battle Mistress for the review, I'm so glad you enjoyed the story! Also thank you to Nexus1914 for the follow. It really means a lot to me, you guys._**

"Ay, that's him!" a loud and northern accent proclaims before I can slip through the room of men drinking and playing poker. He leaps from his seat and is in front of me instantly. This must be the Scout. I don't comment or move when he stands over me, giving me a once over. He looks young, maybe younger than me. He is skinny and beardless, hardly a man in my opinion. I try to loosen up when I realize how rigid I've gone. Suddenly, the Scout lets out a high pitched laugh, forcing me to tense right back up.

"You guys," He chokes out while turning his back to me and pointing a thumb in my direction, "he's a freakin' shortie!" He carries on his whooping laugh, hunched over and I try again to slither my way out of the room.

"Woah there," another man stops me, guiding me by the shoulders to the rest of the team. I fight with effort to keep myself from digging my heels into the floor. "Y'can't leave without meetin' the team first." the man's accent was pleasantly southern and hushed, nothing like the sharp one from the boston dude. "I'm the Engineer." the man nods slightly in my direction. I nod back pretending I'm not shocked. My image of a sixty something year old with a triple the normal size chrome dome and wearing goggles that reflect the light of the sparks bursting from his latest creation is shattered.

"Oi'm the Snipah, an that there's the Demoman." A tall, lean man man with an Australian accent greets me, nodding toward the Demoman who seemed too involved with his drink to notice my arrival. The Demoman was a burly black man with only one eye. Once he swallowed the rest of his drink, he smashed the bottle to the floor and declared

"All in!" with a strong Scottish accent, while shoving a not very impressive stack of poker chips into the center of the table. The man sitting across from him smirked handsomely with a cigarette protruding from the corner of his mouth and pushed his much larger pile into the Demoman's.

"Full 'ouse." the smoking man challenges, he sounds French, with cool confidence and tosses his cards face up on the table. When he begins to rake in the chips, the Demoman rises to his feet quick enough to topple the chair noisily.

"_Yer'a grottie, cheatin' Spy_!" he explodes with spit and a small hiccup.

"Ze game iz ze game, Demoman, and you 'ave just lost." The Spy says leaning casually back and taking a drag from his cigarette. Plooming smoke snakes from his cocky smile. The Demoman yelled something incoherent before launching himself across the table, scattering the chips. I step back several feet. The Spy easily dodges the attack.

"Zis may not be ze best time for introductions." a friendly German voice says from behind me. I'm surprised by the amount nationality in the team, but pleasantly so. Guessing from the man's gloves and labcoat, I'd say he's the Medic. I tell myself the smeared red on his front is definitely not blood. He's smiling, waiting for my response. I feel awkward not giving one. Shattering furniture breaks the uncomfortable moment between me and the Medic. A flushed face of a giant yells deeply Russian "_NO FIGHTS!"_ and everything seems to rumble with his voice. Silence fills the room except for the few chips settling to the floor. I take the moment to back toward the stairs across the room.

"Who's there!?" A previously sleeping man I didn't notice jerks awake. The Spy straightens his tie.

"It iz getting late." He states and leaves the room. I take his example and leave the drunken men at it. The Engineer attempting to calm the yelling Demoman while the Sniper tells the cackling Scout to shove it.

xxx

I am comfortably snuggled in my bed, finally out of that stuffy suit and mask. I've locked the door, just in case someone happens to want to visit. My room is a pretty bare board place. There's a bed and dresser. That's it. I haven't investigated what else may be in here, I'm too tired. This whole experience has given me an adrenalin rush or two and all I need right now is a good night sleep.

These mercenaries are indeed an interesting bunch of men, at least when they're drunk. The Engineer and Medic were pretty decent, the Sniper too. Everyone else was pretty drunk, except the Spy. He seems like one cocky bastard. I bet he's smart, but the kind of smart where you know that the people around you aren't so you think yourself above them. Basically a self important a-hole. Maybe, maybe not. Probably. I'll figure it out after I get a good night's sleep.

An earsplitting siren shocked me unpleasantly from my slumber. Gasping a little, I inwardly complain about the method used to rouse me from my sleep. I quickly dress. The dresser contained simple red clothes. _Get it, 'cause I'm on the RED team, _I think smirking a little. I bet everything is blue on the other team. I opt for the coolest clothes I can when I consider how much time I will be spending in the very thick suite that still lay across my bed. I find a red tanktop, and some shorts that were, thankfully, not red. (Same color on color has never been my favorite look.) The shorts were made from thin, black cloth. The sort that doesn't hold in body heat.

They go down to my knees, and my top goes down to past my hips with the arm holes trying for some side boob. Great. All the clothes are too big. I guess they were meant for a man, even a small man would fill these out better than I do. Even though my wardrobe is several sizes too big, it fits pretty well in the chest and the pants stay rested on my hips, too bad it hangs awkwardly loose everywhere else. I suppose it doesn't matter, I think when I slip into my Pyro uniform.

I can help but be filled with excited awe. This suite is _extremely_ nice. It's exceptionally thicker than my old one and feels far more reliable. The mask too, strikes me with amazement. It's nothing like my old, crusty WW1 p.o.s. No tubes and no straps. It's more like a hood, which, again, works out _perfectly_.

Unfortunately, the gloves and boots are a bit of a hassle with empty air it the ends of each finger and in front of my toes. I hope it doesn't look as stupid as I imagine.

Downstairs is empty and pretty messy from last nights activities. I gaze at the open area from halfway down the stairs. There are three table scattered with poker chips and cards and toppled chairs and bottles. There's also a little kitchen area complete with fridge, oven, and an assumingly stocked cabinet. I stumble a bit when I walk through the room. I choose the neatest looking table, one that looks untouched and tidy. I upright a chair to sit in and lean back comfortably. _Now what?_ I question, gazing at my hands. They look much larger in the thick gloves.

I slide off the gloves and place them on the table in front of me. Placing my hands on top of them, I see the ridiculous size difference. At least the sleeves have enough elastic to stay on my wrists without swallowing my hands. The bottoms around my ankles are the same way. I kick off my boots easily and I see my sock covered foot. I'm just glad I had a pair of socks with me to start with, at least something fits.

On a whim, I suck all my limbs inside the suite. It's roomy enough to sit comfortably cross-legged inside it. _How toasty,_ I think, contemplating whether to suck my head in there as well. I giggle at what I would look like. Swirling smoke drifts across my vision. I look across the table to see a man fade into sight. I blink a few times to confirm what I see. The Spy now sits in front of me like he's been there for awhile.

"You are very strange… " He comments with narrowed eyes and maybe a twitch from the corner of his mouth. My first instinct is to push myself into the suite properly, but a little voice asks me _Why? So I look less weird? That's dumb; plus being weird will make people _not _want to get to know me. Which is good. The weirder the better! _I smile under my mask. This realization dissolves any nervousness I have. I don't have to worry about what is thought of me, as long as I can do my job, nothing else matters.

I just stare at the Spy through the tinted circles lenses. I hope I make him uncomfortable, I know that's what he does to me. He's dressed in a red brown pinstripe suit, very classy, matched with a red balaclava, less classy, more unnerving. Sinister ski mask aside, he looks quite sharp with a cigarette poised between his black gloved fingers.

"Zere's somezing unusual about you, eesn't zer?" he questions. I shake my head no. _No_ _need for that curiosity._ "Hmph." He grunts with a puff of smoke.

"Coffee." came a prolonged moan. It sounded more like 'cawwwfeee', so I knew it was the Scout. Within ten minutes the rest of the team appeared with similar requests as the Scout, all the while I stayed balled up in my suit. I gladly received curious glances from each team member. Everyone crowded around the only clean table, each unwilling to clear off their own.

I've never been a breakfast person, so I continue to sit and stare at each man in turn. The Spy is across from me, masked, and to his right is the man I didn't meet from the other night. Not the giant, but the sleeping one. A round helmet covers his head and eyes irritatingly so I can't really see his face. I tell by the emblem on his arm he is the Soldier. That makes the giant the Heavy, I suppose that makes sense.

I'm bored. When do we get to fight? I decide to refit into my suit to leave. Uncomfortably I notice that everyone is watching me do so, like they're waiting for something to happen. _No matter,_ I step into my boots, _they'll just be disappointed, then. _I gather my gloves and rise. I go the opposite direction of the stairs and hope it leads somewhere interesting. I turn a corner, but then stop thinking I heard something. _You definitely did, now shut up and listen! _I follow my own instructions.

"He's freakin' weird, right?" the Scout asks. There is an agreeable grunt from someone else.

"Not a very talkative fellow, is he? Haven't heard his voice once." the Engineer adds.

"Oi've never even seen the bloke!" the Sniper says like it's the nuttiest thing he's ever not seen.

"No von has, I vonder if he's hiding somethink…" the Medic joins. _Uh oh! Nope, nothing hiding here, nothing at all interesting! _I try to mentally project to him.

"Nah, I think he's just freak." the Scout brushes off the Medic's comment.

"What are we all talking about?!" and loud and vocal voice asks. The Soldier, maybe? Someone must have waved him off because the conversation ceased. Just then, an announcement sounded on the loudspeakers. "Attention: Mission begins in fifteen minutes." _Finally_. I listen to the men shuffle around until they are all walking out of the room. They all file past me toward the same destination. I fall in behind them.

We load into a beat up piece of garbage looking trunk I didn't notice yesterday when Miss Pauling dropped me off. After a short dispute of who gets to drive, then another on who gets to ride passenger, everyone takes their seats. Mine is in between the wall and and Engineer. I don't think anyone was too eager to sit next to me. Within ten minutes we arrive at the biggest building I've ever seen. I follow the lead through the blank and all metal hallways; it is short walk and the doors seal off behind us.

_**Like it, hate it, let me know. Or not, it's up to you. Thanks for reading!**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**AN: Here is chapter 4, I've been trying to make the chapters longer but there certain points where ending the chapter just feels perfect. Hope no one minds the length too much. Thank you DarkenedRainbowz for adding my story to your favorites, it's glad you like it!  
AnniGirl97: I'm so glad you think so! Thank you for keeping up with the story and reviewing. It makes me so happy! **_

_**Battle Mistress: Thank you for the kind words and I will do my best to make all of the TF2 characters have a part! **_

_**Thank you everyone who has taken the time to review so far.**_

We are in a small room with a couple of lockers and a pin up pin up girl calendar. Our weapons are here, waiting for us. My eyes are dazzled with more glory then beyond all holy sights; my new flamethrower. Oh sweet Lord and baby Jesus Christ our savior… This thing is state of the art. Smooth, perfectly crafted metal, no annoying tubes, and lights itself with the touch of switch! I stare lovingly into the little blue flame waiting to be expanded and blasted. I have goosebumps and can't help but laugh giddily. My voice echoes loudly in the thick mask, but I'm pretty sure it's muffled on the outside.

"You a'right, mate?" Sniper asks concerned and, I think, a little frightened. My response is a hidden yet gloriously beaming smile and a an affirmative slap on his shoulder. He partially smiles and uncomfortable smile before going across to the other side of the room. "Mission begins in five minutes." The woman's voice comes through the speakers again.

"Alright, men, pay attention!" The Soldier demands of us. "Today's mission is to capture the points, a mission completed with ease! Right, maggots?!" He glares at us from under his helmet that wobbles loosely on his head. Everyone responds with half hearted affirmation. The Soldier continues with the ineffective pep talk until he is interrupted by the announcement that we have thirty seconds. My heart jumps. This is what really counts, you fail here you might as well go home. Okay then, I won't fail. Five seconds left.

We rush out as soon as the 'one' is declared. I am a little deterred by the unfamiliar terrain, but I am able to follow my team mates. As what I assume is the point comes into view, so does the group of blue uniformed mercenaries. We continue on, but the Sniper falls back to find his position. The Medic has the Heavy on his medigun when the Heavy revs his huge gun. The action slows his pace considerably and I run past him. The Scout has already sprinted ahead of us all, the Engineer stayed behind to secure our pre-captured point, the Spy is nowhere to be seen, and as the Soldier is shot into the air by a noisy explosion. Just like that, I am alone.

I keep running toward the point, terrified but overwhelmed by the thrill rushing through my blood. I barely feel the bullets the graze past me. Fire sprays from my weapon on an unexpecting BLU Soldier. With a frightened yell, he rocket jumps away to shoot at my from a distance. A rocked speeds it's way toward me. I switch off the fire and a blast of air redirects it toward the burning Soldier. Suddenly, I'm on fire and for a split second I'm afraid I've lit myself like a fool. Though I am quickly extinguished, I am relit instantly by the BLU Pyro. I run backward withdrawing my shotgun and start firing. My aim is bad, to say the least, but a barrage of bullets, courtesy of the Heavy takes him down.

They join me on the point I just realized was being captured. I air blast the blue bombs launched by and distant Demoman. I know he is too late as the metal circle beneath our feet lights up red. We're off to a great start. We begin to rush toward the next point and I hear the distant yell of "I'm movin' up!" from the Engineer. My heart rate is more regular now.

With anguish shout, the Heavy collapses dead to the ground, blood oozing from his head. Must have been BLU Sniper, I better get out of site too. As i think this, I bullet nails me in the chest. I manage to stay upright, but I can't help but cry out. Thankfully, the Medic is on me in a second and I can feel the pain ebbing. "Nice body shout, dumbass!" the Scout shouts to wear the previously unnoticed Sniper perches.

I leave the Scout to it and follow the general direction of the Soldier. I see the point, but there's a sentry guarding it. A big one too, firing missiles at the Soldier who explodes right before my eyes. Jesus. "Ready to charge!" the Medic tells me. At first I'm confused, but I remember his 'charge' is supposed to make me invincible. I hope so because I blindly rush out.

I'm feel the medigun's power fill me as I burst into red light. The sentries bullets do nothing but bounce off of me, their force slowing my advance until I see our spy sap the sentry right before backstabbing the BLU Engineer. I blast fire over the blue sentry until it explodes into a brilliant blast. The charge wears off and I hear someone call "Medic!" I yell for him to go and gesture with my head in case he couldn't understand me.

Left by myself, I carefully venture forward, unsure of where the next point is. The longer I blindly wander the more time my nerves have to return. I'm good at this, just do what you do! I try to calm myself down. My eyes peer through the eyeholes of my mask, seemingly smaller than before, for any trace of red. A rocket blast launches me aside.

I scramble to my feet and I'm running before I can stop myself. Please don't chase me please don't chase me. I beg. I round a corner and stop, panting. I have to go back, I know. I just need a moment. The side of my body facing the blast, as well as the side I landed on, hurts like crazy, like a dull throbbing soreness. C'mon, shake it off. I take a deep breath and turn around in time to see a flash of pinstripe blue.

The blade of the expertly handled butterfly knife pierces my back. Other than the painful knife, I feel the BLU Spy's wrapped around my rib cage to hold me firmly on his weapon. "Oh shit" was my last thought before all the pain vanished and I was swallowed in blackness for only a moment. I awoke in the RED spawn. 'Oh shit' is right!, I continue where I left off, Not only did I get to test out the respawn system, but I'm pretty certain that Spy copped a feel.

Shit shit shit double triple shit there's no way he didn't feel that. My secret's out and so am I. I can't believe I blew it on the first day! "Don't just stand there, soldier! Get moving!" Soldier commands me into action. Who knows, he might keep it to himself. I think stupidly.

The fight continues, but I can't concentrate; which might have been part of the reason we started losing. Before I knew it RED team is pushed back to the final point, desperately defending. The Engineer, Heavy and Medic stay on the point while the Scout and I go ahead with the rest of the team, occasionally blasting the area around me with fire for that stupid Spy. I make sure to keep in view of the point in case I am needed.

Medic is down, done in by the BLU Soldier's rockets. They all reappear too quickly, we can't keep up. No doubt there is a nearby teleporter, courtesy of the BLU Engineer. I turn to see the Medic charging from respawn to replenish the health of those around him. I dash from the point. I need to destroy that teleporter. Unfamiliar with the map, I struggle to find its location. Sniper bullets graze bast me and explosions nearly catch me in their blast.

I ignore them and keep charging. My heart triples it's space when I hear the BLU Medic declare "I'm fully charged!", seemingly quoting RED Medic. I've managed to crouch behind a bolder out of sight. I see the Medic and heavy charge toward the point, ready to burst into invincibility. I react rashly, making a mad dash for the Medic. A second after realizing he's been set ablaze, he triggers his uber early to save his life.

The Heavy turns to shower me in bullets with a kill intent in his glowing blue eyes. The Soldier and Demoman attempt to save me, but there's nothing they can do. With my last efforts, I run through the pain and air blast frantically. The Medic the source of Uber, so if I can break his link to the Heavy he would become vulnerable. I know my mission is a success when I see the blue radiating trail from his medigun dissipate. I turn to see the Heavy is no longer invincible, but when I turn back I see the still ubered BLU Medic just in time to watch him impale me with his bone saw.

Blackness holds me for what feels like no time at all when I'm thrown back out. I see our point is still intact and I now refocus on finding the teleporter. I jump into a valley, hoping to find some sort of teleporter-hiding tunnel. Above me, I hear a massive rapid fire succession of explosions shakes the ground and was followed by "Sentry down!" from RED Engineer. I press forward, wishing I could mop the sweat from my brow. Finally the well hidden teleporter comes into view. Though I effectively destroy it, I am too late to save the round.

We lost, now our weapons disappeared. Everyone scatters. I don't know the course well enough for the good hiding spots. I run blindly through the tunnel, quickly realizing how out of shape I am, before I face a dead end. I am stuck somewhere narrow and underground. I think I might be safe. After a few minutes of nothing but my echoing breathing, I begin to relax, unfortunately, it's short lived. A BLU mercenary finds me, and of course, it's the Spy. I don't coware or huddle to the corner, even though that might have been a better idea. Instead, I can't help my pride. I stand with my weight on one leg while tapping the other one irritably. Arms crossed, I even pretend to check my invisible watch for the time. I turn my back to him and turn my face up as if to say "Ugh, this guy, taking his sweet time."

Please just stab me and be done with it. Unfortunately, he doesn't. With my back to him, I am unprepared for assault to my mask. The air is cool on my damp face. I only have a moment of frozen disbelief before a gloved grip spins me on my heel. "I knew it!" He declares triumphantly. "A woman!"

"Am not!" is my first defence. He only smirks evilly, now gripping both my shoulders.

"You can't deny it, you are finish-" I can't hear the rest of his sentence because I am enveloped by the momentary blackness I'm becoming familiar with, forcing me to be left with the thought "Finish? I'm American." before I reappear in RED spawn without my mask. Well paska, I guess I am Finish after all.

_**Paska, according to wikipedia, **__**means shit **__**in Finnish. That's the joke there at the end. Anyway, that's chapter 4. Hope everyone found it enjoyable. Please review and follow and all that jazz if you did, unless that's not your thing. I guess that's cool too.**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**AN: Hey, look at that, chapter 5. What unusual predicament will we find our Pyro in this time? I would like to thank Wolfie9321 and IcedFireFrenzy for following and favoriting my story! THANK YOU. Also thank you to DectectiveSheep for following as well. Again, a third thank you goes out to ma homies AnnieGirl97, Wolfie9321, and DarkenedRainbowz for the crazy nice reviews. Holla at yo kindness. But seriously it means a lot, thank you so much. You guys are the reason I'm still writing this thing.**_

The sight of my defeated teammates causes me to act on impulse. In a second, I'm down on the floor sucking my body into my suit with a dull _shoop_. My gloves fall from my sleeves and slap to the ground. I hug my knees to my chest allowing nothing but the top of my head be visible. I can imagine it, the suit with its arms and legs slack and empty, boots and gloves discarded, and a tuft of disheveled auburn poking from the neck hole.

I can hear the murmuring of the RED team, but I can't make out words through the thick rubber walls that surround me. I hug my knees tighter and flinch from the pressure of someone's hand against my shoulder followed by a voice. "It's awright, mate. We'll get 'em next time." The Sniper attempts to sooth me. I only try to bury myself deeper into the suit. I can imagine his probably freaked out face sharing a looking that said "Uhm, now what?" with the rest of the team.

"Um, is there something you want me to do?" He asks hesitantly, sounding like he regretted the offer. I rock my body in a nodding motion, I want my mask.

"Awright, what is it?" and I can only sit there. Unsure how to proceed, he begins guessing. "Do you want somethin' to eat? Drink? Uh…" He trails off in thought. Slowly and with the utmost caution, raise my head, just enough to barely see. With tangled hair shading my forehead and eyes, I scan for my mask, but all I can see are the legs of everyone standing around us. My eyes trace the length of their height and I drop my eyes when I see they're all staring with baited breath.

Quickly remembering the Sniper, my eyes dart to see is kneels very close to me with his hand still around my shoulders. I duck my head back under and attempt to shift away from him until I'm leaning against the wall. "What do you think he wants?" the Scout asks fascinated, like I'm some sort of foreign animal. "Hey Spy, lemme see your lighta." the Scout says.

"Why?" the Spy responds sounding almost offended, like the idea of someone even touching his things is disgusting.

With an exasperated sigh, the Scout snaps back "Well, he likes fire don't he?" like the Spy had just asked the stupidest question. I assume the Spy handed it over and, based on a huff from the Scout, he did so rudely. I poke my eyes out again because I really wouldn't mind a little fire right now. The scout flicks it on and holds it about four inches from my face. I stare, the knot of tension loosening in my guts.

"You like that?" the Scout asks again like he's talking to a rare species. The flame wavers slightly in amiable way. It dances and tells me everything will be alright with each movement. I can feel it's imagine being imprinted on my eyes while attempting to keep from blinking.

"Zat's enough fooling around." the Spy disrupts the moment and snatches his lighter back. "Why dozn't someone just take 'im to 'is room?" and stalks out. With him gone, I can see a clear path to my mask. My arm shoots through the right sleeve. When the mask touches my fingertips, I am suddenly being pulled away. "Spoi's right, we've got work to do tomorra." the Sniper says only inches from my ear. I realize he's actually going to carry me to my room. With my right arm dangling and my collar still above my nose I consider thrashing.

"Leetle Pyro wants mask!" the Heavy declares in realization. I'm shocked I haven't noticed such a giant man in the same room until now. As the Sniper bends to retrieve it, I quickly gather my arms and lace them over my chest just as it presses into him. My knees are tucked with his arm around them and the rest of my weight on his shoulder, held into him by his arm supporting my torso. He carries me like someone might carry a heavy pot. Everyone follows us out and I allow my face to vanish inside my suit so they can't see me blush.

xxx

It's been hours since the Sniper awkwardly dropped me off. I haven't moved. Originally because it felt like my stomach was weighted down by a two ton weight. The realization that my dream came and went so quickly is crushing, but then I fell asleep. My grumbling stomach is what woke me. I haven't eaten all day and night has already fallen.

I step out of my suit when I drag myself up and am suddenly aware of another need: the bathroom. I guess I'll go exploring tonight. I tiptoe down the stairs as to not wake anyone, but find that several of my teammates were still congregated downstairs. Halfway down, I suddenly do a one eighty upon realization that I wasn't wearing my suit. I return to my room relatively calm, almost certain I was unnoticed.

Gazing at the grumpled, thick, heavy garb that served as my uniform, I cringe at the thought of putting on my tired body. I know I can't just go down, but there's probably an easier way to hide my gender. Then it hits me.

I pull on my mask and drag the red blanket from my twin mattress. Wrapping it around my body, I believe it is thick enough to cover my business. I quietly stalk down the stairs, my blanket dragging around my ankles. The open area downstairs is mostly shadow, the only light being the one hovering over where the entire team gathered. Curious as to what they were discussing, I struggled to force myself not to wander closer.

The best plan of action would be to sneak past unnoticed. After a second I wonder if I should just wait until they were all asleep. My cramping stomach and full bladder convinces me to press on. Sticking to the shadows, I tiptoe my way across the room. Beyond my control, my curious ears snatch words from the air. "I thought for sure we'd have this one…" says the Engineer. I stop moving and listen, giving in to my inquisitive, or just nosey, nature. Were they talking about today's match?

"Ve vere close, closer than ve've been in avhile." the Medic points out.

"Well, _I _was unda tha impression dat Pyro was supposed to make us start winnin' again." Scout comments.

"Porheps," The Heavy begins with his face contorting with concentration, "it was not only Pyro we needed." his heavy brow is furrowed as though the short thought was difficult to form. There was a short silence as the other RED members considered what the Heavy was attempting to convey.

"Yes!" the Soldier shouts to break the silence, "You are all slacking off, you ladies need to learn to fight like men!" he finishes glaring at each man in turn. Everyone rolls their eyes.

"Maybe it is all of us. Maybe we-" the Sniper adds seriously.

"Who iz 'we'?" Spy interrupts bitterly, "I am doing _my_ part." on the emphasis on the word 'my', he shoots a scornful look to the Scout.

"Oh, nice. You tryin' to say somthin', just say it!" he spits back.

"You are a useless member of ze team."

"You son of a-" Scout growls with one of those furious smiles and leaps from his chair.

"Now cut that out- both of ya!" the Engineer demands. As he requested, they were silenced, but the air was thick with tension.

"He asked to tell him what an 'orrible addition to ze team 'e was." the Spy defended childishly.

"That's it-" The Scout snarls and launches himself toward the Spy. Spy blocks the assault, then freezes mid-counter attack. The rest follow his eyes until they are all focused on me. I swallow hard and continue on my way to the fridge. Silence still hangs in the air and I wish I could cut it down. I crouch inside the open fridge to examine the contents. Row upon row of pre-made packaged sandwiches meet my eyes. I grab one, along with a beer, and decide it was time to take my leave.

I hesitate, unsure which direction to search for the bathroom. I choose one at random because I'm not sure how much more staring I can take; they all act like I'm some sort of sideshow act. Silence follows me out.

A shadowy hallway I find near the stairs is where I'm walking. I can't see much, but I counted four doors before reaching the end of the corridor. I almost look into them, but i'm afraid they might be the rooms of the other mercenaries. At any rate, I see a fifth door that actually looks like a public bathroom entrance. The kind with no lock and that pushed open.

There are six shower stalls that line the left wall. The stalls were simple rooms erected straight from the wall and separated by block walls on either side and a curtain in the front. The toilets stand across from them. After quickly relieving myself, I decide to come back once everyone is asleep to shower away my stress. I return to my room unnoticed and eat while thinking about nothing in particular.

I begin to feel sleepy again when I think it's safe to bathe. I creep downstairs and the coast is clear. It's too dark to see anything clearly, but the ripeness of my flesh pushes me to press on. I am once again wrapped in my blanket, unable to bring myself to wear the suit. My bare feet make little noises as I walk down the pitch black hallway, careful not to wake any of my teammates.

I twist the water to its hottest setting and let it sit. Steam fills the entire bathroom. I crank the heat down considerably before stepping in, appreciating the warmth that seeped into the floor. The water bounces and rolls over my body, almost too warm. The temperature is high enough to melt my unease. Yeah, the BLU Spy knows my secret and yeah, I'm probably going home tomorrow. But hey, I had a hell of a good time while it lasted. The red shampoo bottles, simply labeled "SHAMPOO", smell like nothing. I always enjoy that in a soap. The other cleaning products are the same way.

Happy, warm, and clean I shut off the water. Dripping water echos in the damp empty air. This silence, unlike the others I've experienced recently, is pleasing. That is, until I become aware that the bathroom is not as empty as I originally thought. Echoing grumbling hits my ears. as it grows closer, the grumbling is clearly a jaunty tune. I quickly become aware that it was a jaunty _Scottish _tune.

I can't move, the melted butter feeling turned to ice shards in my chest. With my back to the curtain I close my eyes and pray, even though that usually isn't my thing. The singing stops. At this point the Demoman seemed to realize the steam soaked air. _Why should he care who's showering right now anyway? I'll wait for him to turn on the water, then I'll make my escape. _I wait for the squeaky twist of the shower knob and _fiss_ of water pouring from the spigot, but the sound that greets me instead is horrifying.

Metal rings slide over metal bars, plastic curtains smack the concrete wall. Oh my god he's searching for me. I have my front pressed into the opposite wall so he can receive nothing but butt. As the curtain slinging grows closer, I can hear his slightly slurred speech. "Who's thaur? Is it ye, ye grottie wee jobby Spy?" he snarls. I can't really tell him no, can I? "I'll fin' ye…" he promises. _Slap! Slap!_ Though I'm through here anyway, the prospect of the Demoman uncovering my secret sends my heart into a marathon sprint.

I struggle to silence my breathing. He finally reaches the farthest stall, my stall. "I've got ye noo! Ye cannae rin awa' thes time!" Well, he's not wrong. On the word 'time' the curtain is flug open.

_**Chapter 5, over and done with. Hope everyone liked it. Important Request: If anyone out there want romance, now would be the time to let me know. No guarantee I'll do what you ask, but if you want me to have a flirty whatever start happening with whoever, tell me in the reviews. If you don't, I'm not sure there will be much romance, at least not until later on. Plus I want to know if anyone ships any characters. All feedback is appreciated.**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**AN: Good news, this story's views has reached the quadruple digits! *applause* Thank you thank you thank you to everyone who stuck around and enjoyed it so far! Thank you for you so so nice reviews Leifem, Sabor Tooth Tiger, DarkendRainbowz, and kittymar. Super thank you to Apocalypse Survivor for the favorite and follow, and Unorthodox Dusk, box-o-fandoms, and kittymar for following. It means the world.**_

_**YoshiEmblem: Thank you so much, I'm so happy you like it. I will keep that in mind for future chapters. I also like the idea of no romance, but I'm still not sure.**_

_**I'm Judging You: Try not to over think this, it's just a silly story. He does cause he's drunk and mad at the Spy idk just go with it lol**_

_**AnnieGirl97: I'm still deciding if the story is going to go that way or not, but is there someone you think the Pyro should start romancing it up with? If not that's cool, I'm just trying to think of the best way to go about it if I do decide yes on romance.**_

The is a pause in space and time for that one second and I can't bring myself to turn around. "_Ah knew it!"_ he declares triumphantly. Wait, what? At this moment I carefully peep over my shoulder. Between me and Demoman the is the RED Spy. Oh great, like I haven't had enough Spy, RED or BLU, to last me a lifetime. But I can't help feeling something close to gratitude. Who knew this is how this would turn out. Me, buck ass naked with two men I've never spoken to. "I'm gonnae kick yer crease thes time, Spy! Ye cannae rin awa'!" he repeats. He is partially blocked by the Spy, so all I can see are his bare legs bowed out in a fighting stance.

"I 'ave never run from a fight in my life." the Spy soberly corrects him while stepping forward and closing the curtain behind him. I relax a little and listen to the dialogue.

"You think yoo're sae toogh, dorn't ya?"

"I do believe zat I could take you down in a second, but I won't waste ze energy." the Spy scoffs.

"Pit up yer dukes an' barnie me, if yoo're sae good!" The increasingly aggressive Demoman demands.

"Put on some clothzes for god's sake, you drunken fool!"

"Whit did ye jist say?! _I'll kill ya!" _he spits in return. A slight shuffle of feet, followed by a smack of flesh onto the tile floor is heard. Just as I hear the noise, a red towel is flung over the curtain. I take it and wrap my goodies. The Spy is trying to help me, I realize. It's hard for me to believe he is doing so without an ulterior motive. I shrug it off and just wait for his cue to send me on my way.

"You smell like a intoxicated ass!" I hear the Spy shout as the most likely one sided tussle continues.

"Ye maini be smellin' yerself!" the Demoman counters lamely. The altercation continues wordlessly with only grunts and the general sound of people moving around. When the noises stop, I poke my face from the curtain. I see the Spy motioning for me to leave while the stunned Demoman attempts to pull himself up. I'm in my room in less than thirty seconds. Panting, I contemplate how, in one day, I could screw up this royally.

There is a knock on my door, once I'm dry and dressed, and I know who it is. The Spy lets himself in. He smokes in a pensive manner. His stare down makes me cross my arms over my chest. He opens his mouth and I'm relived he's going to end the silence. Unfortunately, it's not words that leave his lips, but white, curling smoke. I let out an irritated "Ugh!" He only squints at me, like he doesn't understand my exasperation. I thought he was supposed to be the smart one.

"Look, all I need to know is if you plan on whistleblowing." He doesn't answer, only continues to analyze me. His eyes feel like fingers tracing and prodding every bit of me. I continue on "If not, then you can leave because we have nothing more to discuss." His eyes continue to scan while smoke escapes his nostrils like a dragon. "If you don't plan on keeping my secret then you go right ahead and tattle your brains out because I'm not about to beg or make any deals." I tell him how it is, but my heart is pattering under my folded arms and I would probably make a deal if he offered one. I like to think I wouldn't, that I wouldn't stoop that low, but I don't thrust myself. I am, to quote Bon Jovi, "LIvin' on a prayer" at the moment.

"Who else knows?" he finally speaks. I take a moment to figure out what his game is.

"No one." I answer. His faces calculates the information but I have to interrupt him, suddenly recalled the days previous events. "No, wait. The BLU Spy knows." At this he finally drops his thoughtful expression.

"Are you serious?" He asks in the same tone someone might say "You've _got_ to be kidding me."

Offended, I ask "Well, what did you expect? His, and your, fighting is kind of handsy!"

"Yes, but is it not pozzible for you to be a little cautious when carrying such a secret? Maybe it didn't occur to you that stipping naked in an unocked room in a 'ouse full of men might not be the brightest idea! Why is it that women insist on unnecessary amounts of bathing?"

"Look, man, why don't you spend a day in that suit sprinting around and playing with fire. It's hard to stay as dapper as you while I'm working my ass off!" My gender has nothing to do with this, and him bringing it up like it's relevant pisses me off. While we both steam, I continue "I _was_ being careful. You were the one following me, to the _shower_, I might add. Pervert."" He rolls his eyes.

"I waz merely investigating. You were lucky I waz zere to help you."

"I would have managed." I spit, though I'm not sure if that was true. "What do _you_ care anyway? Weren't you about to rat me out?" He takes a moment to gather his thoughts after our outburts.

"No."

"No?" I question.

"Keeping your skills available is in the best interest of ze entire team." He inhales deeply on his cigarette.

"But I thought it was _not pozzible for me to be a little cautious when indulging in my unnecessary womanly bathing!" _I mock his accent rudely, fueled with with residual anger.

"Air you quite finished?" He doesn't wait for me to answer. "I will keep your secret, and take care of ze ozer Spy, but in return you must bring victory to the team." Of course I'll try, but how can I assure a promise like that?

"What if they're just better than us? How could I change that?" A silence that reminded me of the one during the team meeting formed between us. The Spy might be a rude, egotistical smartass, but I can tell he cares about this job as much as I do. I wonder how his reason differs from mine, or maybe it's the same. If we can't start winning, what's stopping me from getting replaced? Is that what happened to the previous Pyro? For the first time, I begin to consider the previous occupant of my job.

"Fine." I decide suddenly, and the Spy looks up. "I'll do what I can." neither of us felt that my promise held any real meaning, but never the less, he nodded and left the room. How strange it feels talking again.

xxx

The next morning the same wailing siren wakes me. I pull on nearly identical clothes to the ones yesterday and climb into my suit. When I go downstairs, it's like Deja Vu. This morning seems to be a repeat of yesterday. I sit at the clean table, ignore the invisible Spy, and sit cross legged in the area inside my suit. I sigh deeply and begin to dose off by the time the rest of the team joins. We sit at the small table, most sipping coffee and paying little mind to me. I think they're getting a bit used to me.

The momentary awakeness I felt upon everyone's arrival is fading by the lack of chit chat. Suddenly, the Scout drapes his arm around me. Startled I look up to see him staring with a determined smile. "Guess what," he says, "today is your lucky day because I have just taken it upon myself to show ya the ropes for the next mission." Confused by his sudden interest, I only stare blankly. His eyes dart away before he leans down to whisper. "C'mon man, I'm so frinkin' bored with these lameos. You're about to learn everything there is to know about payload races. How about a little excitement?" I consider a moment before deciding that having a friend wouldn't be so bad. I throw my arms up in the air with muffled "Woooo!"

I instantly regret it when I'm met with no response. Luckily, less than a second later the Scout joins in. "Yeah! We're gonna show those BLU's dis time!" I heartily agree as the speakers announce that we have fifteen minutes left and we excitedly rush out to the van, everyone else following behind.

_**AN: No cliff hanger this time. This chapter has a lot less stuff going on than previous, but I hope everyone still likes it. Let me know what you think about anything and I'll see you next update!**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**AN: Chapter 7, finally. I'm sorry for taking so long, I just got hella busy the last couple of days. (Also the first time I uploaded this something went wrong somehow and it was unreadable.) I'll try to post more often, but I really don't know if I'll be able to update more often than once a week. I'll do my best, though. Thank you Wolfie9321 for the nicest review, seriously, you made my week. And thanks to anyone I might have forgotten who commented on past chapters or something, I haven't been able to keep track very well this week. Thank you to Hell Lord12, Hellka777, Zombiarpi, and tredgravel168 for adding my story to your favorites, I'm glad you enjoyed. Thank you again to Hellka777 for adding me to you follows.**_

We all pile into the van, the Scout instantly calling dibs on driving then insisting I sit passenger much to the Soldiers discontent. "Here's the sitch," the Scout begins, "it's so simple. All you gotta do, is push the payload fasta than BLU. Get it?" Nope. What's a payload? Where am I pushing it? Is it terribly heavy? I nod yes. He smiles at my affirmation.

"It is not that simple!" the Soldier interupts from the back seat. He joins us in the small front area holding on to the wall for balance. "We must follow my strategies to achieve success." he turns to direct his words to only me. "If you follow his instruction victory will be ungraspable!" At the next moment the Scout slams on the gas and cuts sharp left, causing the Soldier the be thrown back. He then slams on the breaks and I hear the thud of the recently regained balance of the Soldier fall. "We're here!" the Scout looks back with mischievous smile that was weirdly contagious.

Again, I'm faced with the long metal hallways that cause me to lose my sense of direction. The room we end in is strikingly similar to yesterday's. We gather our weapons; mine is still able to put a giddy smile on my face. "Alright, men, pay attention!" the Soldier begins the same as yesterday. "Today you all have roles assigned by me that, if followed, will bring us to glorious victory!" Without much feedback from the crowd, he continues. "Heavy and Medic, you stay with the BLU payload, don't let anyone near it. You too Demoman, you're their backup. Pyro!" I perk up at my name praying my task wasn't complicated. "You stay with the RED payload. You're job will be vital to success. You will push the payload. No matter what happens, you stay on it.

"Scout, me and you will defend Pyro to the our deaths. Is that understood?" Without waiting for an answer, he presses on. "Engineer, you will defend BLU's check points if by some screw up they manage to get past the others. That leaves Sniper and Spy to fight where needed. Is this plan understood, ladies?" I smile at the almost relevance of 'ladies' while everyone agrees. Today has a completely different feel than yesterday. We have a plan and I have a good feeling about it. With the announcement that we have ten seconds left, we all gather by the exit.

"Oi," the Sniper says to get my attention, "Remember to stay low, mate. You're an easy target for a snipah. And don't forget ta Spoi check." I nod, grateful for is advice and gladly receive his gruff pat on the shoulder. The doors unlock and we race out. Lucky for me, finding the payload wasn't hard. I followed a railroad track until I found what appeared to be an unexploded nuke in a wooden cart. Alright then, I shrug away the obvious questions and use my shoulder to push.

The wheels squeak across the metal tracks. It's pretty heavy, so I can only move it so fast. The bomb is emitting a weaker version of the medigun's ray and it fills me with strength. I trudge along while explosions and gun shots fill my ears. My flamethrower streams out fire every few minutes and I make sure to not have my back open for too long. As I Spy check, I begin to wonder how on earth the RED Spy "took care of" the BLU one. I highly doubt a threat would work. Maybe a threat toward someone he loved? Nah, men like that don't love people.

I struggle to keep oxygen in my lungs, each breath becoming more and more strained. I nearly cry at the sight of the steep incline in front of me. I stop pushing and take a deep breath. As I do so, I realize my shoulder his exposed by the pullet that just buried itself into it. I crouch lower around the bomb for safety. How ironic. I'm desperate to wipe my brow, but instead begin the ascent of the hill.

With gravity fighting against me, the muscles in my arms scream, not to mention the awkward crouched pose I take. I stop to blast the area with fire, but I quickly change my mind when the thing begins rolling back down. I roll the cart for several more minutes. By this point, I'm wondering where BLU team has gotten off to. In fact, I'm wondering where RED team is as well. Aren't they supposed to be protecting more or something?

Cautiously, I peak around the bomb that still squeaks it's way along. No sniper in site, no anyone. I attempt to shrug off my curiosity because I had one job to do. I push with new strength deciding to take advantage of the break in the storm. I am finally rounding the final bend when I find the rest of the mercenaries. They swarm in a cloud around the BLU payload. I duck back down and increase my speed.

The finish points are parallel and we are neck in neck. I guess BLU teams' plan of action was different than RED's. It appears their's was Everyone stay on the payload the whole time. I wish I could move this thing faster. Sweat blinds me and my muscles scream for mercy. Even my back feels like its being cracked in half because of the way I have to hunker down to avoid being obliterated by the sentry and BLU team.

Quickly they realized that I was still pushing and how close RED team was to winning, so they momentarily ditch their payload and go for me. My team defends me the best they can. Explosion and bullets surround me, but they can't reach me. The final path of the payload is a narrow track that stands over a chasm. I am able to hang onto the payload at an angle they can't get any good shot in. I'm surrounded from all sides but the on looking into the gaping abyss, but I can hear the soldiers voice in my head from before "No matter what happens, you stay on it." I flinch at the remembrance of his loud voice. I'm thrown off my feet several times, but I manage an iron grip and regain my foothold quickly. I can feel my body decorated like Swiss cheese and my blood mixes with my sweat making a rather damp interior.

I'm on the verge of death, but I just need to make it a little further. "Victory!" shocks my grip and I finally collapse toward darkness, dead before impact, Unsure if the vicotry was for RED or BLU. When I wake in spawn, my question is answered. I missed chasing around weaponless BLU, but I don't mind. A mix of high fives and hugs surround me. Each hug followed by a tinge of regret and awkwardness from all except the Heavy who shamelessly hugs three men at time. When they realize I've materialized, they all face me, but this time it's different.

They weren't looking at the freak at the breakfast table, or the weirdo who never spoke. They were looking at their teammate. They are happy, smiling, back slapping, and shoulder squeezing. They all spoke at the same time as we made our way back to the van. Every phrase was congratulatory to themselves and other members of the team followed by discussion on the, according the Scout "Sick party" that will take place later this evening. Lots of drinking and fun, but I honestly just want to sleep more than anything, though I wouldn't mind a drink or two.

_**I'll do my best to get chapter 8 updated for you all within the next seven days thank you for reading, hope you enjoy.**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**AN: Thanks to the incredibly nice reviews from shadow74236915, AnnieGirl97, and SleepiPanda, I was given the motivation to write this chapter and have it ready for you guys this soon. Thank you so much I can't tell you how happy it makes me to see people actually enjoying this. Also thanks I'm Judging You and IcedFireFrenzy for letting me know something screwed up when I first posted it. Thank you to Professor Xyris and killallzombies for the favorite and follow!  
****shadow74236915- I currently have no pairings, but that isn't to say I won't have any in the future. I want to write something, but I'm torn on who. **_

_**Remember guys, I'd love to hear what you want to happen in the story as motivation or just to help me come up with ideas.**_

On the drive back, everyone was shouting and a few were singing while the Scout drove recklessly, but I was too submerged in thought to care. We won for, based on the conversation I overheard the other night, the first time in awhile. Our victory was the the industrial adhesive that held the smile on my face, especially since I felt a lot of it was my doing. After all, they couldn't do it without me. Of course, I couldn't have done it without even one of them missing, probably. I'll just chalk it up to brilliant team effort.

By the time we've all returned and Soldier, Scout, Demoman, and Sniper begin rummaging around the kitchen for beverages containing no less than 5 proof, I'm choking on yawns. Excited drunk men isn't the safest habitat for a person with such a secret as mine, so I dismiss myself convincing myself that I didn't want alcohol that much, anyway. I make an exaggerated stretch and yawn before cautiously making my way toward the stairs.

"Hoooold on, there." the Engineer says taking my shoulder and wheeling me around. "No way you're getting out of here without havin' a few." I can only make a noise that signifies hesitation because I can't really argue with him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." the Scout interrupts, "Don't tell me Pyro was thinkin' bout leavin' without celebratin'!" He sounded positively outraged and confused, like it seemed impossible for anyone to turn down an opportunity to get a little shit-faced. I groan the same noise as before.

"C'mon, mate. Y'can't turn in just yet, we couldn't ta done it without ya." I blush at the praise and, as is my reaction to most situations that make my blood pump a bit faster, I fall back on something silly. I put one hand on my cheek and wave him away with the other in the universal if not cartoonish symbol of "Stop it you, you're too much." Thankfully, I received a chuckle. Demoman shoves his way next to me. "Whit ur we waitin' fur? Let's get blooter'd awreddy!" He says loudly downing a drink sounding like he was already a bit more "blooter'd" than the rest. The next minute a drink is pushed into my hand. Everyone waits for me to drink.

I look down to the beverage, unsure how to proceed. By this time, I really did want to get a touch hammered, but only a touch because I feel like I do deserve it. Unfortunately, I'm not sure how to go about doing so. I look up questioningly and am met with a shock. A teammate hands me a straw. Don't get me wrong, I've definitely seen a few straws in my lifetime, but I can't help but feel something. They know I won't take off my mask, and they accept that. They accept me. The straw is their way of saying "Hey man, don't worry, we've got your back." I'm touched, though I do feel I'm being slightly over dramatic.

I decide to not question my over analyzing of the straw and just welcome the unreasonable flowing joy. The drink is managed with only slight difficulty until the straw has been slid under my mask. Once I finish the first drink, I welcome another. I'm not tired anymore and besides, we are commemorating a great triumph. The drinks keep flowing and everybody's faces begin to match their uniform. We all laugh about nothing, none of the words anyone says stays in my mind for more than a few seconds.

My guffaws echo madly in my suit and I'm tempted to remove it, not to mention I'm getting extremely heated. When the shots roll in, I risk raising my mask enough to free my mouth. I mean, who cares? We're trying to see who can down the most shots, which is clearly me. I can't be slowed down by my dumb uniform. It's down to the Heavy, Demoman, Engineer, and me with the Sniper cheering from the sidelines, the Soldier passed out in a death like sleep, and the Scout out of the picture gone to empty his stomach. What a lightweight. The Spy is probably doing the same thing, I don't know. I haven't seen him all evening. I'm glad, I don't like him. I especially don't like him knowing my secret.

Ugh, that guy! I think while fire trails down my throat. Unfortunately, vomit attempts to rise. I swallow it down and refuse to quit. With the Engineer ducking out I'm that much closer. The second shot goes down smoother. We all take a moment to breath. Oh my GOD it is so hot. That's it, I'm taking off this dumb thing! Why have I left it on this long? I begin to shrug out of my uniform when the Spy shows his dumb face. "Spy ees just just een time to see Heavy ween!" The Heavy taunts unjustifiably to the Demoman and me. We both belt out exaggerated laughter slapping our knees and squeezing each other's shoulders to show the Heavy how ridiculous his statement just was.

My fake laughter turns real when the Demoman retorts "Kergo isnae stored in yer fat, dumbass! You coodn't out bevvy mah ninety year auid grandma!" I'll be honest, a chunk of what he says makes no sense to me, but it sounded insulting. We all raise our glasses for another shot while I attempt to shake a shoulder free of my restraining suit.

"I zink Pyro 'as 'ad enough." Spy says out of the blue. Excuse me?! I look at him with disgust, but I don't think it registers through my mask. I lift it to take the shot with the others, but while I do so, Spy buffs an incredibly stanky waft of smoke up my nose. I barely swallow before I have to slap my hand over my mouth to keep from puking. That bastard! Sabotage! I want to scream it but I can barely hold in my sick. "Zere, zere," he snips out the comforting words while dragging me to the bathroom and declaring my forfeit for me.

I consider allowing my stomach to dump out of my mouth just to correct the Spy and make sure everyone knows I will be back, but I really hate barfing. Every time I do I end up crying for at least thirty seconds, it's horrible. I manage to swallow it down and turn to the stairs, the Spy doesn't stop me. I guess that's alright, I was through the moment cigarette breath showed up. My anger is flared again when I finally reach my room.

"Ya-you lil' shit" I stutter. Talking is harder than I remember, I bet the Spy has something to do with it. Damn him!

"I can't even understand you with zat mask. Stop making a fool out of yourself." he says to me. I pull the sweaty thing off a blink rapidly in the light.

"D-don't you, you- tell me how to live my life! You stu-stupid-" I struggle to find a better, more insulting word. "shit" wait, I already used that one, "face." I finish. Yeah, that sounds good. He only sighs and rolls his eyes like he hasn't just heard the most insulting arrangement of words that he has, in fact, just heard. "Look, man," I try again, "You need-" I'm interrupted by my own nauseous burp. I swallow carefully before continuing. "I think that you… just suck. You're a jerk and I just, I don't trust you, man." I tell him how it is. Then, I remember the whole "taking care of the BLU Spy business."

"How did you do that, anyway?" I ask in a tone that demands an answer. He only responds with a look and a stupid question.

"Do what?" I sigh incredibly heavily.

"You know, 'take care of the BLU Spy'." I use air quotes that last a few seconds too long, even though I'm not sure if it was a direct quote. His baffled look makes me laugh a little because he looks so stupid, but I guess that's normal. I internally high-five myself for that burn.

"Why do you suddenly care? It's not of any real concern of yours." Whatever. Suddenly, I'm exhausted and ready for sleep. I continue taking off the heavy duty uniform of mine while walking toward my bed. With an exasperated sigh, the Spy leaves the room with his last words being "Warn me what an idiotic drunk you are next time." and is gone before I can retort. I'm asleep before I can care.

_**And that's chapter 8. Dang, this is far more than I ever planned on writing. Without supporters I defiantly would have given up by now. Thank you so much to everyone who follows/favorites/reviews. I'm glad this thing is still going, it's so fun to write. Chapter 9 within seven days, hopefully.**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**So sorry for the delay, everyone. What has it been, two, three weeks? I was experiencing mad writer's block as well as an unfortunate amount of work I needed to get done. For the past three days I have been internet free out in a cabin, so I was finally able to relax and start writing again. I'm going to try harder to keep up with this in the future. Thank you to everyone who followed, favorited, or reviewed during my absence and to anyone who comes back to this even after my hiatus. I hope no one is too mad at the lack of updates.**_

I awake to the sound of cheerful chirping and I can practically hear the piccolo lulling my conscience to the surface. The tinkling notes go flawlessly with the birds twittering. The notes seem to be having a conversation, one clearly about me and the best way to trigger my hangover migraine. Sunlight streams through the single, small window. It catches dust in its rays and I watch them dance. I can also feel the suns warm, horribly blinding light dig itself into the deepest part of my eye to change my headache to not only a pulsating soreness, but also to an overwhelming nausea.

I rise with a heavy head and regret last night, though it all is a blur. After my momentary preoccupation of physical distress, I feel grateful yet confused at the lack of rousing siren. I could have slept through it, could I? I change into my uniform and am rushed with pleasure at the shade sound muffling it provides. Still unable to get past the pain searing through my head, I walk slowly downstairs also becoming aware of the hunger throwing a tantrum in my belly.

I'm relieved to find the dining area not empty, that means I probably didn't miss anything. I stumble slightly down the stairs, disoriented by my brain attempting to split itself in half. I sit carefully, knowing too swift of movement might help my brain in its task.

"'Mornin!" a voice greets me, essentially handing my brain a hatchet to more effectively separate its lobes. "Well, Oi suppose its the afternoon, now isn't it? You might've overdone it a bit last noight, but-" at that moment the Sniper must have noticed my physical display of pain and realized its correlation with his speech. "Heh, roight, you'd want to see the Medic for that." he tells me. "Oi've awredy visited moiself. Hang on, do you even know where he is?" he pauses for my answer. When I don't respond, he motions for me to follow him.

I didn't answer because I'm only vaguely aware of what he said. His voice feels like punches to my already bruised feeling head. If I understand correctly, the Medic should be able to do something about this. Apparently, there's a downstairs because I just realized that I am walking down some stairs and into the basement. The room is clearly the habitat of the Medic; there is sciencey stuff everywhere.

"Got anotha for ya." The Sniper tells the Medic, who is faced the other way deeply engrossed in something that sits under a microscope. He adds a drop of some liquid before turning to face us. The microscopic whatever bubbles and sizzles as the Sniper dismisses himself.

"Hello, it's a hangofer, yes?" the Medic smiles while gesturing me to sit. It takes me a moment to find the chair among the clutter of lab notes and experiments. He withdraws a syringe filled with something the color of mountain dew. "Now, you vill need to strip." I'm taken aback by the request. Where exactly is that needle going? I hesitate, knowing that it would be a very bad idea to be naked at this moment. The Medic laughs and says "It vas only a suggestion, not strictly necessary." I'm relieved I don't have to refuse treatment. While he talks, the Medic approaches me.

"I just vant to know what you are hidink. Is it disfiguring burns? Because I have recently created a new method of skin grating that could repair even ze most severe damage, but of course ze side effects have so far been a bit…" He takes a moment to think on the word while looking down at the substance he was about to inject me with. With a start, he sets it aside and attempts to find the correct syringe. "Anvay," he continues after an 'oops, sorry' face, "zere's no guarantee that'll you'll even experience ze side effects." He encourages me. I shake my head to indicate my disinterest. He sighs and mutters something about needing a human specimen to test it on, as if it might make me change my mind.

"Ah!" he exclaims while withdrawing a very similar syringe. "Zis should do ze trick. I need your arm." While he flicks the needle and expels any air bubbles he explains "Ze reason this must be injected is because no person so far has been able to stomach ze flavor. I keep trying to make it bearable but" he shrugs. I make a curious noise as he rolls up my sleeve to expose my forearm. "Ze taste?" he interprets my grunt, "Oh, I have no idea. I've never tested it myself. In fact, you're only ze second person to receive the latest formula." My arm involuntarily pulls back slightly. He laughs hardily and squeezes my shoulder while informing me that the Scout was doing just fine, so far.

Now we both grow silent and he leans close in search of a vein to inject. After a few seconds he speaks "Arrgh," he jokes "I apologize it's just ze veins are so small! And," he gazes at his large hands "zese hands aren't best suited for a surgeon." He sighs at his bad luck before waving it away and finding my vein. A quick pinch and it was all over. He chucks the syringe in a very undoctorly way. "Before you go," he says to stop me on my way out. He also steps close to me to lean and whisper. "Due to patient doctor confidentiality, I vould be obligated to keep any secret you may be hiding if you vere to share. I only insist because you are quite physically, and no doubt mentally, different from my usual patients and for an opportunity to examine a new specimen vould be-"

He's at a loss for words at the thought. I shrug my shoulders because I don't know what to tell him except there will absolutely be no "examining" of me in any way shape or form, at least not by any of these men. After several seconds of not obliging his curiosity, he begins talking again, slightly downcast. "Speakink of obligations, as a doctor I must inform you of possible side effects of what I've just administered." Wait, aren't you supposed be informed of the side effects beforehand? I try not to panic. "Zey are extremely unlikely because testosterone seems to cancel zem out," I panic. "but it is severe dehydration, mostly due to vomiting. Also it I've somehow managed to get ze sweating sickness virus in zere."

He says the last part with a what-the-heck face and a shrug of 'I don't even know how I manage these silly things!' while chuckling. "But ze virus should remain dormant because your testosterone represses the chemical that would make it active. Again, it's all theoretical but you should be fine, really."

I nod hesitantly. This isn't good. Again, before I can leave the Medic stops me, eager to learn what he can about me, minus examination. "Ze last Pyro was quite secretive, as well. He refused to be examined until I was able to get him to drink enough to- um, never mind." He clears his throat. "I suppose it's just the type drawn to the job." He comments more to himself than to me. "Do you vant to know vhat makes me so interested in you?" I don't answer because for one: I can't, for two: I can already guess, and though I know he doesn't mean interested in that way, I couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed at the phrasing. Thankfully, he takes my silence as a no. I immediately appreciate that he seems to be the only one so far to assume my silence as such.

"You know," he begins with a light smile playing on his lips and humor in the back of his voice, "I only vas able to get our teammates to agree by telling them it was 'medically necessary'. Of course I vasn't lying completely, and not all of them needed convincing. Ze Soldier for instance." By now his laugh was full blast.

"Zat man vill agree to anysing! I once told him I had to-" Medic stops himself, "but I suppose zis is vhere patient doctor confidentiality comes in. I just vouldn't bring it up; I still sink he's still a bit sour." He finishes slightly cryptic.

At that moment a sound like a small explosion called the Medic's attention. "Yes!" he exclaims like a mad-man and rushes over to the previously microscopic thing. It rises like yeast and completely breaks the equipment around it by swallowing it into its doughy mass. He laughs manically and looks dangerously close to being enveloped himself while he attempts to get a sample. He ushers me from his lab with a gesture and a shout of confirmation of his well being. I leave eagerly.

"Sweating sickness", huh? I'll be fine, right? I mean, we are living in a day and age where something as simple as sweating a lot won't kill me. As long as I don't sweat more water than I drink I won't dehydrate. And the vomiting? Well, I just won't eat, and then there won't be anything to vomit. I'll just drink plenty of water and I should be fine, shouldn't I? I confirm my statements and head to the kitchen to get a head start on that hydrating. No lack of testosterone will be my downfall.

In the kitchen, I find out that today was a cease fire day. We get those every few days so we can all recharge. I spend my off day drinking water, peeing, and freaking out every time I got a little hot. When the night came the team was all for another evening of celebration. Normally, I would be game. Especially since the only reason I ever hold back is because of the next morning. Now that hangovers are no longer issues, I'm all the more encouraged.

But this evening I will be sober, as much as it pains me. Not only does alcohol dehydrate, but I'm exhausted by nine and asleep by ten. I sleep extremely well considering my belly being full of nothing but water for the past day. Though I got more than eight hours of sleep, the effort of lifting my eyelids the next morning is excruciating.

**_Review, follow, favorite blah blah blah_**


	10. Chapter 10

_**AN: Chapter ten everybody party. Thanks for the couple reviews I got, I really appreciate them. If everyone who enjoys my story would review, it'd be amaze. I don't want to be pushy but I really need more reviews, they make my day. Anyway, thanks for the follows and favorites and support yadda yadda, enjoy the chapter.**_

I manage to drag myself from bed, dress and get downstairs taking only five extra minutes than normal. Most everyone is already downstairs including the Spy, Sniper, Medic, and Scout. There is minimal chatting as I fill a cup with tap water and grab a straw from the recently provided straw drawer. As I drink, I try to pretend I couldn't feel my skin growing damp with sweat. I drain the glass before I leave the sink and take the refilled one to the table.

"You missed it last night, it was insane." The Scout told me, stretching each syllable of insane while leaning back in his chair. For the next few minutes he bragged about his drinking conquests and I couldn't help but think he was exaggerating because, based on the other night, he couldn't drink for nearly as long as he claims. I roll my eyes and continue sipping. "An da Medic's cure means I don't gotta try to limit myself anymore." And he shrugs as if to say 'yeah, all my testosterone keeps my shit together.'

That might not have been what his shrug meant, but that's how I interpret it with a resentful mindset as the water churns in my empty stomach. "Oh, please!" the Spy interrupts. "You were done before the evening was half over, you can't hold your liquor long enough to need a limit."

"You know what, I don't need to listen do you when you were too lame to join tha party! Not that any cared you weren't around."

The Spy gives an incredulous look before saying "I chose to stay away from your drunken display; I know my time could be better spent otherwise occupied." The Scout doesn't reply, needing a few moments to formulate a retort. The Spy continues "Not to mention I am not as eager to be a guinea pig of ze team's doctor as you might be." No one has a chance to speak after that except the administrator informing us that we have fifteen minutes.

The ride there was normal for everyone except me. I've started to feel it. My gut is pushing at my throat and my skin is slick against the interior of my suit. I struggle to resist the urge to remove my mask. This time I sit in the back in between the Scout and Sniper. The Scout is talking to me, but I'm barely listening. He blabs about today's mission which is similar to capture the point from my first day. My brain is a bit foggy, but from what I can gather, all we've got to do is hold the point for three minutes.

I know I'm not at the top of my game, but I think I can manage his. The van rumbles down the road, guided by the Soldier's careless hand. We swerve and bounce and I feel stomach acid and water rise from up my esophagus. I swallow and heavily bump my shoulders with the Sniper. I lean into him for a second too long before moving my weight to the wall.

I grunt an apology and take a deep breath. I'm suddenly exhausted and have completely given up on listening to the Scout. "You a'right, mate?" the Sniper leans over to whisper. I nod, grateful that I don't have to contort my face to deceive him. I sit up to make my lie more convincing, but as I do so the van pulls to an abrupt stop. The soldier parks like a teenager with a fresh permit.

My throat catches, but I'm able to hide it as we all rise and exit. I jump from the back and land shakily, but manage to keep my balance. The Sniper offers a hand for support but I turn him down and wordlessly insist that I'm fine. I attempt to convince him further by marching ahead of him, seemingly eager to begin the mission.

I stay strong as I arm myself and avoid the concerned gaze of the Sniper. He's the only one who's seemed to notice my less than par health. The gates open and we charge out; I keep to the Soldier's heels and in just a few seconds we reach the point. It could have been a few minutes because I feel like I might have been fading in and out.

BLU team takes only a second or two longer to reach the point. Bullets, rockets, bombs, and fire fill the air. In the haze of battle, I simply hold out my flame and run around. I couldn't focus where to point, so I don't. It's no surprise that I'm killed quickly and often, I'm completely off my game and can't seem to focus on anything except keeping a grip on my weapon while my hands slide around in the damp cavern of my gloves.

My feet are doing no better with my socks feeling like I just spend the day in canvas shoes riding water rides. I am completely unaware of whether we are winning or losing. After my fourth or fifth respawn, I've lost most of my steam. Explosions that seem close to me prompt the use of my air blast, but as I fumble for some sort of perspective I am struck with a feeling.

I push it out of my mind. Nope, I'm gonna be fine. I'll make it through this round, no problem. I hear a warning of one minute left. See? Whether we win or lose, I'm gonna make it back to spawn, no incident. I've got this. One second later my mind shifts.

I don't got this, I need to leave. I can't make it. With a final air blast I run away from the crowd and toward somewhere hidden. My feet slipping, my weapon discarded when it slipped from my grip, I run. I continuously swallow and go as far as I can. I've made it away from the point and to a mostly hidden place in a building most likely for Snipers. I can only pray that I don't run into one as I rip off my mask and suck in a breath of fresh air. I can't keep my voice from my violent inhale.

There, that's better. I'll be fine. I remove my gloves and mop my forehead try to stop anymore sweat from dripping into my eyes. Unfortunately, my palms are as soaked as my face. I undo the front of my uniform with the intention of using my clothing to sop something up, anything. I realize how futile it when I become aware the inside of my suit is as though I was just pushed into a pool.

Without warning, my gut lurches and copious amounts of water mixed with stomach acid splash from my lips. It takes a few retches for it all to come out. Once I'm empty and wet and my throat burns, I couldn't help but cry. I like to think I'm pretty tough, but keeping it together as weak as I am, is impossible for me. What makes it worse is as I attempt to wipe my tears, I only manage to smear more sweat into them.

And I will admit I do feel a bit sorry for myself. Justifiably, I think. I even let my tired muscles fail and lie as a sweaty mess next to a puddle of runny sick and stop caring about anything except wanting to be home. What I didn't hear or have any sense of was the BLU Soldier following me from the very moment I attempted escape. I'm pretty certain he lost me at one point and whilst searching was taken down by a single shot from RED Sniper.

What I also was unaware of was the fact that the Sniper decided to go and see if I had respawned. I only discovered all this when I heard boots against concrete and an Aussie voice "Pyro? You still aloive?" The noises jerked my from my pity trance and I snatched my dripping and smelly mask and with the upmost strength of will, force the horrible thing over my sickly face. Its smothering rubber didn't help matters.

Sniper approaches, but just before he can check how close I was to dying, we both appeared in spawn with the rest of the team. I stayed lying, grateful that my barf was gone, but still unable to keep my tears at bay. It doesn't take long for the group to realize that I have some sort of ailment. I feel okay blacking out when I see the Medic's eyes light up and rush to my aid with the Spy close behind him. Spy will protect my secret while I'm out, I'm sure. At least I hope.

**Pretty please review, it makes me so happy when you do. Thanks for reading!**


	11. Chapter 11

_**AN: Short chapter, but here ya go anyway. Also, a million thank you's for all the AMAZING reviews! So many people went to the trouble of typing out their opinion and I am so incredibly pleased!**_**THANK YOU SO MUCH.****_ Seriously, I hope everyone understands how much it means to me when people actually bother with my story. I hope you guys in comprehend at least half of how happy it makes me, anyway, here's chapter 11 woo_**

When I come to the first thing I see is the ceiling of my room. I'm relieved to find my body far less sweaty than before and my stomach considerably more settled, hungry even. "She's avake!" exclaims the Medic. Well, I guess he knows my secret. I might be done for real this time, but for some reason the unease that struck me last time someone found out isn't here. Kind of like I trust the medic in a weird way, even though he's probably one of the more untrustworthy mercs. In fact, apart from the Spy, he's probably the least trustworthy one here; man, I've chosen my allies well, haven't I? I wonder how I rank on the untrustable scale, not too high, probably. Or maybe very high because I have been attempting to deceive everyone here from the start.

"Zank god!" I recognize the Spy's voice and am instantly reassured that the closest thing I have to a friend was with me. Wait, isn't he supposed to be protecting my secret? Yet here we are. I look to the Spy for answers. Before our eyes meet, the Medic speaks.

"You almost died, and for zat, I vill apologize."

"Thanks, but don't worry about it. There was no way for you to know I'd be vulnerable to the virus." my voice sounds pretty normal, not that it really matters in the long run. The Medic looks away from me, as though he still feels guilty.

"Vell, to be honest, no amount of testosterone could repress the virus."

Oh, I see. It was all intentional to get me as a patient. "What the hell, man?!" I shout. the Spy immediately shushes me.

"I can't believe you actually believed that!" he says angrily.

"How was I supposed to know? He made it sound legitimate!"

"Common sense, perhaps?" I glare at him, and with nothing more to say, round on the medic.

"You," I say to get his attention, "are you telling me you intentionally injected me with a deadly virus?"

"Vhen you say it like zat..." he trails off for a moment before continuing, "I vasn't going to let you die, of course, I just vanted you sick enough that I'd have to-" he slowly loses steam on his defense until he grows silent under my glower.

"Well, it worked. So what are you going to do?" I prod roughly. His face twists questioningly and he glances to the Spy for explanation. I'm fuming, so my voice has no gentleness, after all, he practically killed me. "I mean," I growl, "are you going to snitch?"

The Medic looks taken aback, as though the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. "Vhy on earth vould I do zat?" he asks, utterly baffled. "Vithout you, ve vould not be vinning." after that, is face turns to a weird, kind of defensive-prideful look. "Believe it or not, but it is not my goal to sabotage my teammates." he's almost offended, I think. I roll my eyes.

"Fine." the room is silent, now that we've both managed to become upset.

"Speaking of fine," the Medic says with a sigh that releases his slight irritation, "You've survived. Unfortunately, you vill need need to sit out ze next mission."

"Zat what I was zinking." the Spy agrees.

"What? Are you serious?" I demand, furious that they'd even think I'd be down with this, or that it is even necessary.

"Sorry, Fräulein, but zat's ze doktor's orders." he says apologetically. This is ridiculous! I feel completely fine, no, I feel better than fine! I feel like I can take the world, or at least the BLU team. I open my mouth to argue, but the Spy slaps a hand on my shoulder to shut me up. They nod at each other and the Medic takes his leave. I slap the Spy's hand away.

"You're joking, right? You can't actually think I'm not fighting tomorrow because of what that quack says." I say. He looks down at me seriously, and I know his answer. "Oh, come on!" I say, almost like a child begging a parent for permission to go to a friend's house. 'But Dad said I could!' seems like it should follow. "Give me a break," I say disrespectfully, "go ahead and try to stop me." I know he won't tattle, he wants me here just as much as I do. My confidence whooshes out like an untied balloon when I see his steely smile.

"If I break your arm you will be missing a lot more zan just ze one day." I gulp and quickly drop the fear from my eyes.

"Whatever, just go away." I say sharply and turn away from his playful, yet terrifying, face. He'd actually do it, I can tell. I wonder what the hell makes it so important to him. He leaves me alone with an infuriating "Atta Girl" and a pat on the head. Pft, I'll figure out how to get back at him later. For the time being, I'm starting to feel exhausted again, probably just the last of my sickness. I'll sleep it off and worry about everything tomorrow.

The siren rouses me and, despite the Spy's threat, I think I'll get ready to fight. I dress quickly and casually head downstairs, maybe they'll forget I'm on bed rest. I'm not surprised when I have no luck; the Medic is immediately on me, ordering me back to my room. The rest rush to agree.

"Don' worry about us, mate. we'can 'andle it." Sniper comforts me.

"Yeah, we got this." the Scout backs up.

"You just rest up, it'll be no good if you make yourself worse by fightin' today." the Engineers says while similar comments continuoulsly are spewed as gental yet solid shoves guide me to my room. I don't even attempt to resist the unbreakable wall of well wishers. I trudge up the stairs and wait for the announcement that signal my teammates departure. Once they're gone, I am aware that I have the building to myself. I seize the opportunity to bathe in peace because I smell worse than I ever have in my life, what with the gallons of sweat dried in a salty sheen all over my body, also the grease I seemed to have dipped my hair in.

_**Please please review, it's literally the nicest thing you could do for me. Also favorite and follow if you wanna keep up with this business. **_


	12. Chapter 12

_**AN: Phew, about time, huh? Sorry about the delay, but writers block had me bad and I started on working on my original stuff. Not to mention school has been **_**SO **_**far up my butt. I honestly didn't have the time for this, but I miss writing on this thing. I'm glad I can finally update and hope it's up to par. Thanks to the people who followed and favorited while I was gone, as well as the lovely reviews I've gotten. My current goal is to get another chapter out before the end of this month. P.S. I edited the last paragraph or so of chapter 11, nothing's really changed, though.**_

The water that rolls off my body seems tinted dirty as it swirls down the drain. Who knew grime was so heavy when it stuck to you in layers? With the weight lifted, I even let lose enough to sing a bit. I sing the entirety of American Pie and Stairway to Heaven, my mouth doing not only the lyrics, but also the sweet sweet guitar.

"Hey you!" I bellow, "out there in the cold, getting lonely getting old can you feel me?!" I sing loudly. A sarcastic person might describe my cover as better than the original. "Hey you!" I belt out, but then, forgetting the lyrics, mumble the tune as I scrub my scalp several times, letting large amounts of suds form. I shape my hair into the usuals: a mohawk and a unicorn horn (despite it's stubbiness). After rinsing, it occurs to me that now would be the perfect time for a long needed trim.

I dig out some scissors in the general toiletries cabinet. Along with them I found various items that fit in that category, such as nail clippers, combs, etc. After shearing off a couple inches, I admire my now tidy pixie and opt for a quick rinse because, why not? I dress in the very same thing as usual. I feel like a cartoon character, wearing the same thing every day. I hop down two stairs at a time. Freedom fills my being and I can't help but prance around a bit to enjoy my unrestrained movement and needlessness for hiding. That kind of thing can really ware a person down.

After all of this, I realize no more than forty minutes have passed. Excellent, I finally get my chance to explore. I'm pumped because despite my efforts, I can't suppress my innate curiosity. That's putting it nicely, honestly, I'm just nosey when the opportunity allows. I don't snoop often, but when I'm given the perfect situation, how can I resist? It's like an unlocked phone that someone leaves in unsupervised; I'm practically being begged to invade someone privacy. Not to mention that my friend the Spy is such a mysterious character. I decide I'll save his room for last, just in case the others are boring.

Unfortunately, the precaution was necessary; none of the rooms are what I'd call a gold mine. They're all exactly what you'd expect. I drop my disappointment in my eagerness to find out what is up with Mr. Chain Smoker. At first, the room is just like the others, just like mine. It smells heavily of cigarettes and…. what is that? I take another whiff. Cologne, I think. He certainly is posh. My eyes scan the room. No clutter or mess, the bed is even made. He's that type of person; I find that unsurprising. Suddenly, something catches my eye.

It stands out vividly, it looks almost unnatural: the color blue. I know it shouldn't feel so foreign, but I haven't ever seen it in the environment. What was Spy doing with something that most likely belongs to at least relates to BLU team? Putting two and two together, I figure it must be the BLU Spy and, not to sound vain, probably has something to do with me. Here I am playing the guessing game when I can get the answers by reading this alien paper. I poise it in my hand and debate taking it to my room; I decide against it, despite the fact that the chances of me dying due to residual second hand smoke are through the roof.

"Whatever," I mutter to myself and snatch the paper close to my eyes. The words scrawled in careful writing that, I think, suits the Spies.

_You have compromised our arrangement. Again, I'm afraid we must discuss in length the situation. Meet me as usual._

What? Seriously, _what the hell? _That traitor! That selfish, egotistical, self important-ugly, uhm… fat..! Just, that bastard! How could he? Calm down, I tell myself, give him the benefit of the doubt. I try, but I never did trust him completely. I sigh and replace the letter as I found it. I will have to keep an unnaturally close eye on that man. Unfortunately, the chances are high that this meeting has already happened. The "as usual" bit is what's suspicious. Instead of this beating around the bush nonsense, I might just straight up ask him what business he has with BLU. Then again, maybe it'd be better to bide my time… Ugh! I don't know! I'll have to think about it. Later, though.

Now, I'll be damned if I let that jackass ruin my day alone where I can be as naked as I please. I leave the bedrooms to strut around the house numb with boredom. I seriously debate on stripping completely. As much as I want to, my logic convinces me not to. It just wouldn't be smart, but there is something I enjoy more than being naked. That is, of course, fire. I, again, search the rooms; this time for flammable things that no one would miss, I even searched through the trash bins. I found some pretty interesting things.

The Soldier, for example, had several letters written to himself. They were almost like diary entries, but they only noted the simplest, seemingly least important things. Like "Today I had thirteen beers. That is one more beer than yesterday. One day I will drink one hundred beers." or "The lettuce on my sandwich was extra crisp. Who added the extra crisp?" I chuckle a little, but then feel bad. I mean, the Spy's privacy is one thing to invade, but with the Soldier it feels kinda wrong.

That feeling returns when I shuffle through the Snipers trash. I find one sided letters from his mother the other side presumably with her. I don't read them, but I grab a few of the furthest down crumpled ones. The Scout's trash was chalk full of doodles scribbled through and wadded. They seemed like serious attempts too. Guilt rushes my cheeks and I regret my snooping. I draw the line and search my own room instead. I find a perfectly good notebook of my own.

I take my operation to the kitchen. With little searching, I am able to discover a multitude of pots and pans. My idea expands and I gather all suitable containers and spread them across the floor. I even take the time to scoot the tables back to keep them singe free. I start by placing crumpled paper wads into each container. I fish my lighter from my pocket; I'm rarely without it. I flick the spark to life and, after a moment of admiration let it die. Though I enjoy the lighters convenience, I prefer matches.

A quick trip back upstairs and I have all I need. I strike one match, let it burn halfway down, then drop it into a nearby pan. I ignite each miniature flame pit in turn. I walk around the small fires, dropping sheets of paper when needed. After who knows how long, half my notebook is gone and I realize my cheeks are tense from smiling, but I can't stop. Not until the clunking of several footsteps just outside the door am I able to look away. My eyes are dazzled for several minutes as they attempt to adjust to the dimmer lighting of my not burning surroundings. _Crap!_

I think as I hear the door open. I dive for the stairs, but misdirect my launch and hit a wall noisily. I stumble blindly, the dark hallway I've found my way into completely unseeable. I grasp the first knob I touch and speedily make my way into the room. As my door closes, the other opens and and I wonder whose room I'm in. A few shouts of surprised echo loudly through the house. Oops, I forgot about my fires. Some clanking of pans are heard mixed with the tiny, dying, and probably imagined screams of my poor babies. That probably wasn't the brightest plan. As I think this, my heart leaps crazily, yet somehow in sync, with the footsteps coming down the hall. I hear doors opening and know this one will be entered any second now.

I frantically feel around in the pitch blackness with little hope of finding a hiding place. I feel a bed and hear a knob jiggle as it's grasped. I slither under the bed. There's a second where I don't breath before the door is opened and lights are flicked on.

_**Please favorite, follow and review and all that other stuff I love. Thank you so much to the people that are still around, despite my spotty updates ;_; you're all beautiful souls**_


	13. Chapter 13

**_AN: Well, I almost got this update done in November, but what can I say. Here it is in December. I hope it's up to par. I've been considering a Christmas special since I'll be on break and such, but I'm not really sure how to go about it, or if it'll even be worth it. Just putting it out there as a maybe so if you all are really for it let me know please, that is, if you remember by the time you finish reading chapter 13. Anyway, here ya go!_**

_Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic!_ I repeat this thought over and over, yet I still begin to panic. I squeeze my eyes shut and slap my hands over my mouth. Footsteps near the bed, then the mattress is sagged down where a merc has placed his weight. Well, I know it's not the heavy, otherwise I'd be crushed to death right now. "That pyro," someone mutters thoughtfully. Damn, not enough dialogue to distinguish an accent. I hear what I think are shoes falling from feet and the weight lifts. The general sound of clothing, probably just a uniform getting removed fills the quiet room. I dare open my eyes.

I see the shoes directly in front of my face. My nose scrunches and I can practically see green swirls of stank rising from the interior. They're boots, a lot of the mercs wear boots. Scout doesn't, and neither does Spy. I can only pray it's the Medic. I desperately want to know who it is. It would just be dumb to try to poke my head out any further, so I settle on scooting a bit to the left; at least the shoes will be out of my face.

A board creaks and I freeze. I hear nothing, but that doesn't mean he heard me, right? I resist moving again and try to get a glimpse of something from my new angle. I see a pair of feet on the hardwood floor, just standing there. _Even if he did hear the creak, it doesn't mean he instantly knows someone's hiding. _I try to calm myself. _I mean, I would totally disregard a little noise like that if I were him._ Still, I'd feel better if he wasn't just standing there.

Time creeps along for probably another minute when he finally breaks the silence by walking across the room. I hear rifling through draws when I decided to adjust myself once more. I'll be more careful, of course, and maybe I'll be able to see who it is; I just need one identifying thing. This time, the floor stays silent. I can now see more of the room, but I don't recognize anything. After a few seconds of scanning I feel suddenly uneasy. As the feeling strikes so does the blade of a large knife directly in front of me.

The knife, specifically the kukri, is followed by the voice of a clearly Australian man. "Oi've had enough of your sneaky business, whoiy don'tcha come out now?" I don't, instead I quietly scuttle back as far under the bed as I can. Sniper falls to his knees to reach under the bed and drag me out. As his hand feels around for me he speaks. "C'mon, Soldier, you're no Spoi. You're not slick enough for this snoopin' act. Unda the bed? C'mon, now…" his hand grips my wrist. "Eh?" he mumbles when he realizes my wrist is quite different from the Soldier's.

My left hand grips the slick wood, but the angle that the Sniper grips has my arm twisted. So, when he pulls my arm, it straightens out and twists the rest of my body with it. I lose my hold when I'm flopped to my side and my shirt gives no traction against the wood.

I slide from under the bed like a mechanic from under a car. He stares at down at me, wide eyed. Aviatorless, Hatless, and, to my shock, shirtless, he still holds my wrist in one hand with the other grasping the kukri. He quickly drops my wrist, but doesn't move otherwise. I glance at his weapon and he lowers it too. With it gone, it's hard not to be distracted by the firm chest entirely too close for my heart to regulate.

I sit up so he'll lean back; thankfully he gets up completely and rushes to throw a shirt on. I'm guessing he saw the pink in my cheeks and realized his indecency. While his back is turned, I make for the door. Reminding how quick his reflexes are, he catches the door. The sight of his open shirt sends another rush of heat through me.

"Do you mind?" I say using my hand as a wall to block his buffness. Gah this is embarrassing, I just want to leave. As his hands leave the door to comply to my request, I again attempt to open it. Again, he stops me.

"Ya can't just go runnin around out there," he begins, but I interrupt.

"You can't just lock women in your room!" he motions for me to lower my voice.

"Who are'ya? How'd ya git here?"

"None of your business." is my instant reply cause, I mean, I'm not about to tell another person my secret. _It's a bit late for protecting your secret. _I shrug off the logic in that statement.

"It is my business, you're in my room. Now, tell me who you are." He demands in a voice that usually gets an answer. Thinking fast, I do the most logical thing that comes to mind. I cry. It wasn't hard, I'm pretty good at forcing tears; in this state of panic it didn't take much. Tears bubble from my eyes and I hide my face in my hands. I turn my back to him and ask in a quiet, broken voice to let me leave.

He stutters a few times before finding his words. "No- no need to cry," he places a hand on my shoulder, feels me tense, then removes swiftly, "You can leave, it's just not safe with er'body about. Plus, I can't just let a girl like you out in the desert to find her way." As he says this I spin around with ceased tears.

"You can't tell anyone I'm here." He seems confused. Before he asks, I continue, "Because I-" I run out of steam quickly. "It's a secret." I finish lamely. He scratches his head and smiles a bit, like I'm telling some sort of bizarre joke; he's not buying it. How about this: "I'm here for the Pyro. He's my… friend." The Sniper doesn't say anything, only looks confused, so I babble on.

"He's not expecting me, I just thought I'd meet him in his room, and I ended up in the wrong room, your room, as you know. So, I'll just go find the Pyro's room."

"Crickey."

"I'm not lying!" I lie suspiciously and over defensively and about three octaves too high. I am blown away when he doesn't call me on it.

"Don't get cut up!" he says putting his hands up as if to protect himself from my false accusation. "Oi just thought, Oi mean, the Pyro doesn't seem like type of bloke to have a girlfriend."

"Yeah, well…" I don't bother correcting, this situation is fine; I just need to get to my room. Sniper scratches his head awkwardly while he thinks.

"Oi suppose once everyone is settled you could sneak up there without a problem, especially since there won't be any celebratin' tonight. But you need to tell Pyro he can't just tell people where we are. In fact, it's one of the biggest rules. Ah, but Oi won't tell." he says the last part quickly to stop the look on my face, "Just keep in moind not everyone would do the same."

"Thank you so much." I say very sincerely.

"Roight… " he says like he might regret it, hopefully he won't. I decide to change the subject.

"You thought I was someone else, I mean when you found me." I clarify.

"Oh, yeah. The Soldier has taken to spoin' on people lately, he's a very distrustful bloke. Aways makin' sure no'body's plannin' to sabotage the team or somethin', Oi guess." _He's not very good at it, _I think about the Spy. How can I get him to fess up? Even after that, how can I possibly stop him? We've been winning, and that's something, isn't it?

"Can't really blame him, can Oi? The way we've been losin', until Pyro came along. Oi don't tell him, but without him Oi know we'd still be losin'. Oi'm really glad he joined the team. Don't go tellin' him this, if ya don't mind. Don't want him gettin' brash, heh." I nod agreement.

"So, he's really good?" I ask, unable to resist.

"Better than our last, that's for sure. Oi feel like he's hiding something, you wouldn't happen know would'ya?" he asks lighting up at the prospect.

"I-uh, I wouldn't know what you're talking about." I stumble over my words. He deflates a bit.

"Well, what does he look like?"

"Oh, ya know, like normal person. He has… hair, and, uh, some teeth." wow. when did I get so bad at this? Sniper notices my weirdness, but I think he attributes it to something other than being a big fat liar, probably the situation that is getting more and more uncomfortable.

"You think I could leave yet?" I prompt him to check if the coast is clear. He does, and there's a few mercenaries out. I decide to risk it and bolt upstairs. No one turns their head. Thank god that's over and done with. That went pretty smoothly, if I do say so myself. Spy would be proud that I didn't blow it. Ugh, Spy. I don't know what I'll do about him. I suppose there's no harm in waiting a bit, knock on wood, until I think of something. Speak of the Devil, I find him waiting in my room, looking none too happy.

_**Aye, chapter 13, hope everyone enjoyed. As usual, Follow and/or Favorite if you enjoyed, and drop a Review even if you didn't. Please and Thank you. Oh, and several people have asked me if I'm still writing during the last few chapters, and I promise I am. I just need a week or so to pump out chapters between responsibilities and such. It's a drag, I know. Any other questions/suggestions lemme know via pm or review and I'll get back to you. :)**_


End file.
